


I'll Be The Storm And The Shelter

by Happyeverafterdoesntmeanforever



Category: Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Manhattan fix-it, angst with a (mostly) happy ending, where I insert classic doctors because I can
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2019-10-27 16:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happyeverafterdoesntmeanforever/pseuds/Happyeverafterdoesntmeanforever
Summary: After Manhattan, River and the Doctor's grief comes close to tearing them apart. But when River meets his past self, she realises how much she needs her doctor.





	1. Chapter 1

He's almost afraid to follow River into their room. 

He knows that's where she is- that's where she always goes- 

But he's been sat on the stairs of the Tardis for hours now, since he found the afterword and came back, his tears dripping mercilessly onto the floor. 

She'll have been doing the same. 

That hurts too, the knowledge that she’s hurting, but… 

He doesn't know what to do. 

He doesn't know how to comfort her, not when his own hearts are shattering. Shattering so completely that he'd forgotten her own grief. 

He hates himself for that, but there isn't much left in him to hate. The girl who waited and the Roman have taken everything with them. 

At the beginning, he'd been angry with her for letting Amy go. But he knew now that she had always been going. She'd chosen Rory, as she always would, as she always should. But no-one ever chose him- 

River did. 

River always put him first, even when he didn't deserve it. He never deserved it, and yet she always did. And he hadn't even remembered her grief. 

He rose slowly, his bones as tired as his hearts. It was time to find his wife, and be the husband he should be. 

He made his way slowly to the bedroom, hoping that by the time he got there he'd have something to say. 

He knocked gently on the door of their bedroom, but there was no answer. He cursed his incompetence as he pushed open the door slightly. 

River was curled up in on herself, sheets tangled around her, hair dishevelled, facing away from him. She shook silently, but he watched her control it fiercely as she realised his presence. 

"River-" 

"Go." The word is choked out, so much pain and hurt held in it, and he wanted nothing more than to hold her, take away that pain. But he can't do anything. He can't fix it. 

He's the Doctor, the man who helps people, and he can't even help his own wife.

"River." He tried again, trying to put his tenderness and love for her into those syllables. But he is as broken as she is, and it doesn't come out right-

"Go. Just go." 

He took another step into the room, noticed the soaked sheets. She's given all she has, spread her grief out on those sheets. 

She needs him. But he needs her, too, his grief leaving him useless. 

"River." 

"Leave me alone." Those words are cold, bereft of her usual tenderness. 

He knows he shouldn't have, but he listened to her, left the bedroom and wandered the rooms of the Tardis for the rest of the night. His grief and guilt kept him up, the knowledge that he's failed the only family he's had for centuries. He’s failed his wife, the woman he loves more than anything- 

It doesn't matter. 

That's truly what she thinks. That her own grief doesn't matter. And he's let her believe it, been so wrapped up in his stupid self-

Those are the moments when he turns back towards the bedroom. But, invariably, he'll remember her clipped words- leave me alone- and turn away again. 

Perhaps he's failed her properly this time. She's given him everything, and he's taken it, not given what he should have back-

Perhaps she doesn't want him. Perhaps he's finally broken her faith, her love of him. Perhaps when she leaves this time, he'll never see her again. Perhaps he's rewritten time with his failures, and they'll never have Darillium. It'll be worth it, if she doesn't go to the library. 

He can only hope that she doesn't feel the pain he's caused for too long. That he hasn't broken her thoroughly with his carelessness. 

His wife, lying broken in their room. And he can't even comfort her.   
\---------------------------------------------------------------

When the Doctor left, she gave into her grief again. 

He can't see her like this. Her tears bring out the lines around her eyes, the ending written on her face that he'll run away from. And she hates him seeing her cry- it hasn't happened for a long time, not since she was young and vulnerable. But she's the older, stronger River, the one who supports him.

Or she's supposed to be. She knows he's grieving too, that she should go and find him, tell him what he needs to hear. But after he'd found the afterword and there had been nothing for her, not even a 'look after our daughter', she hadn't been able to take it. 

She can't blame them. She's not the kind of daughter anyone would want, anyway. She's older than them, for goodness sake. She'd has those years as their best friends, and they had meant so much. 

But she would have appreciated something. She didn't expect a letter, but something- 

Perhaps they, like the doctor, think she's strong. Think that she’ll pick herself up and keep going, those vulnerabilities still well hidden. 

But not this time. She's lost two of the three people she trusts in this universe, and the Doctor- 

She's afraid he'll turn from her. They've had so many adventures, so many years of laughter and love, but she's growing older, and he can't take endings. There isn't that much space left on her diary, and she has no illusions about what that means. 

She should go and comfort him. His grief will be more destructive than hers- he's lost even more than she has, and she knows he's getting worse at coping with it. He deserves everything she has, and he always will. 

But she would have appreciated something. Stupidly, naively, she'd begun to hope that they could be a family. It had felt like a family, those moments before- before-

Just something. Something to say that they loved her as they loved him, even if it wasn't the love they held for each other. 

Even if they didn't love her the way she loved the Doctor. She couldn't expect them to- not that all-encompassing, self-sacrificing, exhausting but beautiful love. 

She couldn't expect him to feel that way, either. 

 

He was the Doctor, and she was only herself. A reclaimed psychopath, a time travelling archeologist. 

It shouldn't hurt. She had made peace with the fact that he wouldn't ever love her like she did him, that however much he cared for her, it couldn't be the all-consuming love she held. 

But tonight- right now- she needed someone who saw all of her, even the broken and ending parts, and loved her. He'd never be that- she couldn't expect him to be- but just now, she wished he could have been. Wished he'd come back, hold her, share in her grief. 

She’d told him to leave. And he had to, he couldn't see her like this. 

Never let him see the damage.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning, the Doctor forced himself to go back to their room. His tears had dried, but his heart was still heavy, and he saw their faces every time he closed his eyes. 

But River was grieving too. And he wouldn't fail her- not again, not this time. 

So he made his way back to their room, his steps heavy. He knocked once before entering, but there was no answer, and he was suddenly so afraid of what she might have done, alone with her grief- 

He pushed the door open, and found her packing.

She'd put on her black suit- the one she used to rob banks- and was methodically taking everything that was hers and placing it in a black backpack, clearly bigger on the inside. 

"River-" 

He couldn't lose her. Not now, when the sound of footsteps in an empty Tardis might just break him. When she was grieving, broken by her parents deaths, and he hadn't done a thing to comfort her. It doesn't matter, she'd said- 

"Don't bother." She said, coldly, standing up and slinging the backpack over her shoulder, readying her vortex manipulator. 

"Where are you going?" 

She pushed past him, refusing to meet his eyes. Her face was still stained by tears, and he had a horrible feeling she was trying to hide that from him. 

"I don't know." 

"Are you coming back?" 

"I don't know." 

She walked out into the corridor, her heels clicking, and he followed her. 

"River!" 

She turned around, faced him, those beautiful green eyes revealing only grief and fear. 

"Stay." He begged her. He needed her, needed her to share in his grief, needed her to help him and needed to help her- 

"I can't." 

She didn't sound upset, only resigned, her voice still holding that terrible coldness. He was suddenly terrified of what she might do in her grief, things that would haunt her, things she'd confess to him later, her tears wetting her hair- 

If she came back at all. 

His blood froze, and he wanted to reach out to her, hold her in his arms, tell her that she didn't need to hide the damage, that she didn't need to hide anything- 

"You promised you'd stay- you said you'd travel with me-" 

"I can't." 

This time, her emotions crept out from her carefully controlled voice, and her voice shook slightly. There was a hint of tenderness as she said: "I'm sorry." 

She turned from him again, giving him a small, sad smile before walking down the corridor. 

He couldn't let her go. Not like this- not when he needed her so badly, not when he didn't know the next time he'd see her, not when she still thought her grief didn't matter to him- 

"River!" He shouted her name after her, but she didn't turn around, kept walking, her head held high. 

"River!" He reached for her, grasping her arm, but she wrenched it from his grip, turning to face him. 

"I need you to stay." 

"I can't." 

"Why not?" 

Her face contorted for a moment, as if fighting her own emotions, but then she spat: “We lost them because of you. You and your need to be loved, to be impressive, to have humans following you around and marvelling at everything. You couldn't let them go." 

He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think. He'd spent the whole night trying to convince himself that it wasn't his fault- 

He'd thought that it was Amy's faith in him that he couldn't stand to lose, but it was River's. River, who knew so much yet had never condemned him, River who made him the best version of himself, loved him unconditionally-

And there she was, with contempt in her eyes. She turned away, as if she couldn't bear to look at him- 

“I lost Amy because of you. She could have stayed, could have come back to the Tardis. But you-" 

She turned back to him, her face hard. "You don't get it, do you? She didn't want to stay. Not without the man she loved. But I wouldn't expect you to understand that." 

Oh. 

She'd let Amy go because she'd have done the same for him. She'd have died for the man she loved- 

He knew that. She'd done it, in her future that was his past. But if she was ready to do that now- did it mean- 

She had turned from him again, and he could have sworn he heard her choke back a sob. 

He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't said a word. He'd let her think that she didn't mean that much to him, let her believe that he didn't- that he wouldn't- 

He followed her to the control room, each click of those heels another fear.

He couldn't let her go like this. He couldn't let her go, grieving and hurting, without helping her- 

She'd reached the control room, had opened the Tardis doors. 

"River!" 

"Stop it." Her voice betrayed far more emotion than she'd intended, and he hated that he was hurting her, even now- 

"I need you." 

"Not this version of me." She turned back to him, her eyes sad. She took a shuddering breath, and he knew he should reach for her, take her in his arms, comfort her- 

“I'm sorry, sweetie.” She said, voice carefully controlled to keep from slipping over into tears. “Hold tight, and an older version of me will find you. I promise.” 

Then she stepped backwards, setting her jaw. “But I can't be what you need. I can't stay.” 

“Please.” Was all he could offer, his voice broken and hoarse, his feet set in the floor. 

She closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, they betrayed nothing of the tenderness that he was so used to. That he relied upon. 

Then she turned from him, and stepped out into space. 

"RIVER!" 

His desperate cry echoed in the emptiness as she vanished in a puff of smoke. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------

He destroyed the Tardis. 

There were too many memories- Amy laughing at Rory, the two of them racing through the Tardis, or reading books and refusing to go anywhere even when he tempted them with the diamond waterfalls- 

But most of all there were memories of River. Laughing at him as she leaned across the Tardis; leading him towards their bedroom, hips swaying; appearing in the middle of the night, hair wild; or looking at him with those loving, heated glances in the early morning-

His wife. And he'd taken her love for granted, assumed that there'd be so many more adventures, so many more kisses and nights together- 

Now she was gone. Hurt, grieving, and unsure of his love, and he didn't know when he'd see her again. If he would. 

Those words that she'd spat at him echoed around his head, haunting him. She was right, as she always was. His need to be loved and worshipped had snatched them from him. From both of them. And now he'd ruined even River's love, turned even his wife against him. 

That love had carried him through his self-hatred for centuries. And the loss of it- that loss- 

He couldn't stand the interior of the Tardis, the gold that was so like the curls of her hair, the green that matched her eyes so perfectly, the handles with her handprints on, the love notes scattered through the rooms-

He had ruined the best thing in his life, let his grief overwhelm his love. 

Amy and Rory would condemn him for that, if they didn't already. He was supposed to look after her, not blame her for something he'd done and fail to comfort her. 

He couldn't stand the idea of staying still, so he set random coordinates, saved a planet, and steeled himself as he opened the Tardis doors again. 

The golden of her hair was gone, replaced with silver metal. It was cleaner, brighter, neater. He couldn't bring himself to love it, but the colours didn't tighten the lump in his throat, so he murmured his thanks. 

He searched through the rooms, found their bedroom completely unchanged, the love notes that he'd scattered in a neat pile by the bed, his diary next to it. He shut the door on it, silently thankful that the Tardis hadn't changed a thing. 

He found their bathroom, wiped the dust and tear stains from his face, and set his jaw as he met his own eyes in the mirror. 

She was coming back to that room. He would hold her again, apologise for everything, grieve with her. There would be hundreds more adventures before the library. He would make sure of it. 

Time to find his wife.


	3. Chapter 3

River let the wind wipe away her tears, looking firmly forward. Time for some fun. 

In the next few hours, she robbed several banks, scattering the cash over Paris as she walked along the rooftops. Then she made her way to the streets, where everyone was celebrating their newfound wealth, and flirted shamelessly with everyone she met. 

By the time she'd had at least 20 offers to bed, some of them quite forceful, she considered that it was probably time to retire. She made her way to the nearest luxury hotel, paid the receptionist, and sauntered up to her room. 

Thoughts still threatened, so she ordered a bottle of champagne, leaving a memory agent and instructions for men with stupid clothes and big egos, with a bewildered receptionist. 

She didn't care about timestreams. She had lipstick that would wipe their memories, anyway. But she needed to play with the Doctor, any Doctor. 

The next few days remained the same, the money from those banks standing her in good stead.

The first night she dared to come back without drinking, she also dared to cry. That was the night she wished for the Doctor more than anything, wished his stupid face would walk through the doors and comfort her, as he had so many times before. But there was no-one, only the darkness and her grief. 

She allowed herself to cry a few times over the next few days, occupying most of them exploring Paris or writing archeological papers. But despite herself, she saved everything for when the Doctor turned up. 

She was lying on the bed, reading their diary, her favourite red dress on, when she heard a knock at the door.

\------------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor climbed the stairs to the hotel room that had been indicated, wondering what on earth he thought he was doing. 

He didn't accept invitations from strange women, conveyed by hotel receptionists with strange smiles.

But the woman had given him some water with some kind of memory agent, and he'd remembered the name she'd told him. 

Professor River Song. 

Hed met her a few times, but she must have wiped his memory, for only now was he remembering all that he knew about her. Clever, fascinating, but loose moraled. And she'd said something about his future? 

He shouldn't be listening to her summons. He didn't reply to strange summons, no matter how beautiful of fascinating the woman in question might be. 

He didn't describe people as beautiful, either. 

He didn't appreciate what this woman was doing to him. He should be off saving the universe, finding companions, not answering summons. 

He should turn and walk away. Who knows what she was doing in a hotel room- even he had noticed her flirtatiousness- and he probably really didn't want to know. Shouldn't know. 

He found himself at the entrance to her hotel room- 204- and knocked on it, loudly.

What on earth was he doing here? 

He had come to demand answers. That was it. He had come to demand answers to all the questions she raised, and to force her to leave him alone in the future. 

That made sense. Subconsciously, he'd known. He needed answers, and she was going to give them to him. 

"Come on in, Sweetie." That was her voice, all right. There was a hint of something in it that he was sure he should be aware of, but wasn't. 

He pushed the door open, finding her lying lazily on the bed, reading a blue covered book. She wore a deep red dress that followed the curve of her hips and dipped low in places he wasn't entirely comfortable with- 

She looked up, amusement dancing in those teasing eyes. "I did wonder which Doctor would turn up, but I do admit, I wasn't expecting you." 

She put down her book, sat up slightly on the bed. "So, Sweetie, why are you here?" 

He refused to be distracted by the tone of her voice, and stuck firmly to his story. "I am here to find out who you are, and why you keep meeting me and erasing my memory." 

"Oh, Sweetie. We both know you are better at lying than that." 

"I am not lying, and I resent your accusation-" 

"If you know I've wiped your memory, you know that we shouldn’t meet at all, and that I can't tell you anything."

"Ah. But if you will be forced to wipe my memory, surely it would do no harm to tell me?"

"It is still dangerous, I'm afraid. And I don't think you would particularly enjoy the truth." 

"You're enjoying this." 

She smiled, as if she'd done something she shouldn't have. Which, he reflected, she probably had. 

"Guilty as charged, sweetie. But you are so fun to play with." 

"If you knew me at all, you'd know that no-one can play with me."

"Now, don't insult me." She frowned slightly, feigning offence. "I know more about you than you do." 

"No-one knows more about me than I do." 

She smiled, and he could have sworn that it filled the entire room. "No-one except me." 

"Who are you?" 

She sighed. "I thought we reached the point in the conversation where you understood that I can't tell you, and I wouldn't even if I could." 

"Alright, then. Why are you here?" 

She sat up more, and smiled again. "Sweetie, could you shut the door and come a bit further in? The draft is a bit cold."

"Well, if you will wear that!" 

The words were out of his mouth before he thought about them, and he knew from the heat in his face that he had turned the colour of her dress.

She sat up further, showing exactly what she was wearing. Then she smiled, a genuine smile, not affected, though it lost nothing of its naughtiness. 

"And there I was, thinking you hadn't noticed. You're always dressing me in green, because of my eyes, but I've always been a sucker for red. It's always interesting to see your face go the same colour." 

He said nothing, only closed the door and stepped further into the room. That damned smile and those damned curves, making him feel things he hadn't thought he could- 

"You haven't answered my question." He said, attempting to regain some of his lost composure. 

"Why am I here?" She laughed, lightly. "I'm here on an academic mission, actually, but I thought I might as well invite the Doctor to join me. Told the girl at reception to give anyone with a large ego and stupid clothes a memory agent, and tell them Professor River Song was waiting upstairs. Amazing how, in the whole wide universe, this works remarkably well. I'm expecting several versions." 

"Several versions?" 

"You know that your various selves often congregate. Particularly around me, it seems." 

"That's stupidly dangerous!" 

She smiled, and her eyes darkened slightly. "Exactly. I'm waiting for a version that properly knows me, but I don't mind playing with a few earlier ones for the time being. You really are all such fun." 

"What academic research?" He asked, ignoring the glint in her eyes. 

"Spoilers." 

She stood, lazily, the red material fluttering around her ankles. She was a significant amount taller than him, even without her heels, lying discarded by the bed. 

"Here you are, still here. It must be the dress. There I was, thinking you didn't like me." 

She picked up the blue book, handling it carefully, almost reverently. 

"It's not you that I object too, Miss Song, it is your use of guns." 

She turned back to him, her smile slightly forced. 

"Oh, I'm certainly not a miss. Definitely married. I'd tell you not to be disappointed, but I suppose that's spoilers too." 

 

She turned away again, depositing the book on a chest of drawers, her dress fluttering with the graceful movement. 

He glared at the back of her head, making a conscious effort to ignore the implications in what she had said. 

Her eyes changed, becoming suddenly sad. She stroked the case of her blue book, and he could have sworn that her hands shook slightly. "One day, you'll understand why there's a gun in my hand. And you won't condemn me for it, only walk me from my darkness into the light. And I'll do the same for you." 

His future. She was his future, staring him straight in the face. He couldn't handle that, couldn't stand it- 

 

She turned back to face him, offering a smile he couldn't read. It was something like- tenderness. 

"As long as my principles are not compromised." He said, and then he found himself regretting it when he saw the look in her eyes. 

"One day, you'll understand. Sometimes, there isn't a right decision. Sometimes, you have to save lives, not principles, do what you can though it stains your hands. And you learn that being good doesn't mean principles, but goodness in the darkest pit, when there is nothing but you and your decisions, and my hand to hold. My words to guide you through. When there is no hope, no witness, no reward, and no principles. Only you and me, and decisions no-one should have to make." 

His hands were shaking, all his protestations forgotten. The way she talked about him- as if she truly knew him- and the way she talked about them, together, as if- 

Damn her! Damn her words and that dress- 

He turned to leave, rapidly blinking to get the image of her out of his mind. But he knew that even if he forgot that damned dress, he wouldn't forget her words. 

"Sweetie, I think you're forgetting something." 

That damn voice! All the flirtatiousness was back, her voice dripping with suggestion. 

He turned to snap at her, but she was standing right beside him, those beautiful green eyes full of sadness and promises- 

Stop it! Whatever this woman was doing to him, it had to stop. Now. Damn her- 

But she stepped forward, her flirtatiousness replaced with that sorrow and deep affection that he'd seen just a moment ago. And as she kissed him, soft and sweet and loving, it got harder and harder to curse her. 

He should have welcomed the memory agent, but he found himself reaching for her as the memories slipped away. He tried to curse her with his last thoughts, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. 

All he could think of was her words. When there is nothing but you and your decisions, and my hand to hold.

It should terrify him, and he wanted it to. He wanted to fight against that future, change it, remain the man he was. 

But in the last moments before she slipped from his memory, he found himself accepting that future. Accepting her. 

 

For if it was her words that pulled him through- words like that- 

She might just be worth it. And that was the most terrifying thing of all.


	4. Chapter 4

Professor River Song. 

That remarkable, impossible woman. 

The strange receptionist had given him a memory tonic, and the woman and her hair had come flooding back. 

How he'd allowed himself to forget her, he didn't know. But it wouldn't be happening again. 

He knocked on the door the receptionist had indicated, trying to figure out if the number- 204- had any significance. 

"Come in, Sweetie." 

That was her voice, all right. Lilting and beautiful, with a hint of danger. And something else that he couldn't quite place. 

She was lying on the bed when he entered, green dress following her curves and hair in a golden halo behind her. 

Everything he'd prepared to say floated away as she stood, smiling at him. 

"Hello, Sweetie." She said, eyes sad and tender. 

He somehow found the strength of mind to take her hand and kiss it. Her answering smile filled the room, but there was still a lingering sadness in her eyes. 

"Who are you?" He breathed. 

She sighed, stepping away from him and sitting heavily on the bed. When she spoke again, the smile she offered him was strained. 

"Of all the questions in the world, you had to ask that one." 

"Is there a problem with that question?" 

The hurt and sadness in her eyes was more than he could bear, but he didn't know what he could do. He'd only met her a handful of times, and though he knew enough to know she was remarkable, he didn't really know her. Didn't really know how she'd react if he sat beside her like he was dying to. 

She didn't meet his gaze when she said: "I can't answer it."

"Why not?" He sat beside her, knowledge be damned. She knew enough about him, anyway, and she didn't tense at his proximity, so- 

"I'm from your future. I shouldn't even be here, only I-" 

"River-" He put all his wonder and expectation into those wonderful two syllables, and perhaps it was too much. 

She closed her eyes. "Don't say my name like that." 

"Like what?" 

"Just- don't. Please, sweetie. It's not a good idea right now." 

"I'm sorry." He stammered, hands and heart fluttering. 

"Don't apologise. It's my fault. I shouldn't have called you when I'm like this." 

"I want to be here." He said, willing her to look at him. 

She did, her eyes unusually vulnerable. "Tell me a story." She said, quietly. 

"What kind of story?" 

She smiled, a knowing smile that saw right through him. "The kind you love telling." 

 

He told her of his most recent adventures, 11th century earth full of knights and castles, the planet of Ferferk, deep in space, and its inhabitants in the middle of a civil war. 

She listened to every word, her smile and laugh filling the room at the appropriate points. Sometimes, she'd anticipate his actions- stopping him, with a 'let me guess' she'd describe exactly what he'd done. 

In another life, that knowledge would have scared him. But he already knew that she knew everything about him- it was her that he wanted to know. 

This remarkable, impossible woman. 

She kept him telling stories deep into the night, the sadness fading slightly from her eyes. 

And whilst he could tell her stories all day, it wasn't him that he wanted to talk about. 

So the next time she smiled at him, her eyes tracing emotions he couldn't place, he stopped. 

"Forgive me, River, but... Is there anything you can tell me about yourself?" 

Sadness flickered back into her eyes, and he cursed himself for it. 

"It's just that you're- frankly- remarkable, and I- I want to know you." 

There was something like vulnerability in her voice as she said: "I'm not sure you do." 

"I am." 

She turned to face him again, eyebrows raised slightly. Then she smiled, elegant hands fluttering in her lap. 

On impulse, he took one. "River." He said, unable to finish his thought. 

She was unlike anyone he'd ever known. Blew them out of the water, just by smiling. And he knew it was irrational- dangerous, even- but he trusted her. 

"What do you want to know?" She asked, and he could have sworn her voice shook slightly. 

The woman he'd met tonight had been different from the other River's he'd met. Less sure, less flirty, quieter. But just as beautiful, just as remarkable. 

"Favourite colour?" He asked, sitting back on the bed to lean against the wall. 

To his delight, she laughed, sitting back beside him. "Blue. Always has been, ever since I was a girl." 

"Any particular reason?" 

"That qualifies as spoilers." 

"Really?" 

"Oh, you weave your way through my life quite expertly. Not that I mind." 

He was going to ask how that didn't count as a spoiler, but she was looking at him so beautifully, waiting for the next question. 

"Favourite hat?" 

She properly laughed this time, her hair bouncing as she threw her head back. "I'm not really a hat person, darling. But you look best in a Top Hat." 

“I'll make a note of that.” He said, sincerely, and something flickered in her eyes. But it was gone as soon as it had come. 

He kept asking her benign questions, delighted when she laughed or flirted or looked at him with that beautiful tenderness. He kept her talking long into the night, noting how her eyes grew tired, her blinks closer together and longer lasting. 

But he couldn't bear to suggest that she should sleep. Not when he didn’t know when he'd next see her. 

Not when she was so hopelessly beautiful. 

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew that this was dangerous, out of character. That he should protect himself, leave, demand real answers and not that damned word. 

But all that floated away at the green of her eyes, at the bright light of her smile. 

She'd been silent for a moment, but he hadn't noticed, so caught up in his thoughts. He felt the weight of her head on his shoulder suddenly, her curls tickling his neck and cheek, and he started. 

Twisting, he turned to look at her, careful not to dislodge her. Her eyes were closed, breathing slowed, smile soft and content. 

She'd fallen asleep on his shoulder. 

He smiled to himself, his heart beating a drum beat in his chest. This remarkable woman. 

He sat with her on his shoulder for a moment, her breathing stirring both their curls as they mingled. He sat as still as he could, though his heart was beating fast enough to burst. 

He should probably put her to bed. 

Softly, he slipped his arm underneath her legs, attempting to support her back with his other arm without dislodging her head. She stirred slightly, murmured something, but didn't wake. Carefully, he stood, her head slipping from his shoulder but, somehow, her breathing remaining calm. 

Perhaps it had been a while since she'd slept. 

That only tightened his resolve to make her as comfortable as possible, and he flicked the covers back with his fingertips, laying her down on the sheets carefully. She stirred, turning on her side and curling around herself, and his breath caught in his chest. 

He should be fighting this, how she could affect him so easily with a movement or a look. But he couldn't bring himself to, not when she was so beautiful and remarkable, right in front of him. 

He pulled the covers over her, tucking her in. 

Perhaps he should leave. Perhaps that would be the kindest thing, when she'd looked so fragile and had to control her tongue to carefully around him. 

But he had a feeling that waking up alone wouldn't help that uncharacteristic fragility. So he settled down in the chair opposite, finding the book he'd been reading in his pocket. 

He flicked through that, then the mediocre selection the hotel had provided. But, more often than not, his gaze would be caught by the woman sleeping opposite. 

Who was she? 

He had ideas, of course. Ideas so hopeful he couldn't say them aloud, in case they weren't true. But she was a mystery he was desperate to solve, a bundle of contradictions he had to unravel. 

He'd turned back to his book, attempting to shake at least some of the thoughts from his head, when she stirred. 

Gently at first, and then with increasing urgency, she began murmuring names- 'Amy. Rory. Mum. Dad. Rory. Amy. Mum. Dad.’ 

He stood, concerned, taking a step further. She began thrashing, shouting the names with desperation, and then she was screaming, crying, her eyes still shut, and he was frozen, helpless- 

Her screams cut through his inhibitions, piercing and haunting and terrible, and he found himself rushing forwards, holding her shoulders, shaking her and saying her name again and again and again- 

With a gasp, she woke, barely registering him, and immediately convulsed into sobs. He held her against him, and she fisted the lapels of his jacket, her breaths coming in terrible, desperate sobs, tears running down her face and onto his shirt and jacket. 

But he didn't mind, couldn't mind, all his sense narrowed onto those terrible sounds of sorrow and her shaking body and he held her close to him, giving her whatever comfort he could manage- 

She didn't stop, cried as if she had nothing else in her, sobs haunting and desperate as tears flowed freely, soaking his jacket, staining her face. He steadied her as best he could, arms wrapped around her waist. 

Slowly, her breaths slowed, her grip loosening. She pushed herself back from his chest, avoiding his gaze and wiping her eyes. Then she simply sat, legs still underneath the covers, hair wild and eyes red. He watched her, helpless. 

“I'm sorry.” She said, eventually, her voice hoarse and broken. “You shouldn't have had to see that.” 

“Don't apologise.” He said, softly, wishing he had more to say. More to offer her. 

She took a shuddering breath, attempting to compose herself. “You should probably go.” 

“Not a chance.” 

It came out harsher than he intended, and she turned to him, surprised. “Sweetie-” 

“I’m staying.” He said, firmly but softly, “Until you’re feeling better.” 

She swallowed, turning away again, and the silence hung oppressively. 

“You can tell me.” He finally managed, reaching for her hand and laying his own gently on it. “If you want to. If it might help.” 

“You might not want to know.” She said, quietly, still refusing to meet his gaze. 

“I do.” 

There was a long pause, but she didn't take her hand from his. 

“My parents.” She said, softly. “They were my parents, and they're gone.” 

He let her continue, words sticking in his throat. 

“Not really gone, I suppose. Sent back in time, but I can never see them again.” 

Her voice broke, and he squeezed her hand, willing her to look at him. 

“And I never- it's complicated, but they didn't raise me, and I'd thought- I'd hoped- that I could be their daughter. Properly. And there were the beginnings of it, but i-” 

She clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back a sob, composing herself again slowly. 

“They didn't see me as their daughter. Not really. And my mother-she- she chose to leave me. And that was right, because she should have, but I- part of me, a small part of me, wanted her to stay. For me.” 

She sighed, her voice threatening to break again. 

“And I know that I shouldn't. And most of the time, I don't. But the- the one thing we never had was time. The one thing I never had was a family. And just when I was beginning to hope-” 

She broke off, and he gently, hesitantly, put his arm around her shoulders. 

“What can I do?” 

She laughed at that, a self-deprecating, broken sound. “Nothing, Sweetie. It's not your fault.” 

There was a long pause, and then he dared to say: 

“What would your Doctor do?” 

She finally turned to him, eyes wide and wet. “How did you-” 

“I guessed.” He said, simply, and she dropped her gaze again. He let go of his irrational wish to take her face in his hands and kiss her soundly, wipe away each tear and bring light back into those hollow eyes-

“I can't ask you to be him.” She said, softly, tenderly. “You barely know who I am.” 

“I don't need to.” He said, equally as softly. “I want to be him, as best I can.” 

Another long silence passed, and he turned her words and his words around again and again in his mind, trying to work out what had gone wrong and how to fix it. But, finally, she said: 

“He'd just- hold me.” 

“Well, then.” He said, standing and pushing his shoes off. 

She watched him with a mixture of vulnerability and care. “You don't have to-” 

“I want to.” He said, simply. “If it's true- if there's a Doctor in the future that- that knows you, then he's not here when he should be. And if I could wring his neck for that, I would. But the least I can do is be what I can of him.” 

Her eyes filled with tears, and she dropped her gaze. “Thank you.” She said, very quietly. 

He smiled, shrugging off his jacket. She met his eyes for a single, precious moment, turning away to slip back under the covers and turn the corner back. 

He smiled in what he hoped was an encouraging way, lying down on the bed next to her. This close, he could smell her, time and violets and deep, red wine, with a hint of gunsmoke. It almost took his breath away, and he was glad she remembered to flick the covers back over, because he wouldn't have done. 

He could hear her breathing, still quickened, and the edges of her hair tickled his cheek. His heart was beating a drum beat in his chest, but he turned on his side to look at her. 

He hadn't been able to really notice everything until he was this close. The multiple colours and facets of her eyes; the little creases beside them, souvenirs of love; the bump in her nose; the deep red of her lips, even devoid of lipstick. 

She met his gaze, and to his delight, didn't turn away. It occurred to him that maybe- just maybe- she was studying him as he was studying her. 

The thought sent a thrill up his spine. 

Carefully, he said: “How would your Doctor-” 

“I can show you?” 

He nodded, and she moved her hand to meet his, sparks flying at each touch. Gently, she guided his arm over to her waist, where it fitted beautifully. Then, to his delight and surprise, she settled closer to him, hesitantly lying her head on his chest, over his hearts. She took his other hand, interlocking their fingers, her arm thrown across his chest. 

“That alright?” She said, softly. 

“Perfect.” He managed, though his hearts were very, very close to giving out. 

He held her as best he could, his heartbeats slowly slowing as he relaxed. Her hair tickled his chin, the steady weight of her head unusual, but comforting, and her scent had mingled with his, beautiful and exotic and unknown, yet so strangely familiar. 

But holding her… it wasn't enough. And if what he suspected was true- if what he'd suspected when he'd found her, drinking alone at that bar was true… 

Then where was he? Where was the Doctor she knew? 

He hated himself for it, furiously, and he would have damned the consequences and found him if he'd known where to look. 

All he could do was be here, now. So, very softly, he said: 

“I- I don't know your parents. And I don't know the circumstances. But I do know… They loved you, River. And they wouldn't have left you if there'd been any other way.” 

“How do you know?” She asked, fiercely keeping her voice steady. 

“Because,” he said, very softly twisting his fingers through her hair, “I don't think anyone could know you and not love you.” 

She choked on a breath, burying her head in his chest. “You wouldn't want to say things like that when you don't know me.” 

“Wouldn't I?” 

She looked up at him, smiling faintly. “No.” She said, her voice steady yet sad. “You wouldn't.” 

“We'll see.” He said, finally understanding how people could get lost in each others eyes. 

She kissed him, softly, brushing back hair from his face and studying every aspect of his face for a moment. 

It occurred to him that she was trying to memorise this one, in case it was the last time. 

He tightened his hold on her, twisted her curls through his long fingers, and she settled her head back on his chest, tracing soft fingers over his knuckles. 

Eventually, her breathing slowed, and she settled into sleep. He dared to hold her even closer, his own eyes growing heavy. 

He barely ever slept. He didn't need to, and there was so much of the universe to see. But right here, right now, all he needed to see was right in front of him. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------- 

She woke first, twisting slightly in his arms to watch him sleeping. Her Doctor she'd seen sleep thousands of times, but never this version, and she did her best to memorise the lines of his face. 

A tear began trickling out of her eye, and she wiped it away before it could splash on his face. She managed a smile, kissing him lightly on his forehead. 

She should probably do it now, get up and dressed and kiss him before he woke up. Stranger things than waking up in a hotel bed with no idea how he'd got there had happened to him, no doubt about that. 

She settled back down on his chest, wrapping her arms further around him. To her surprise, he hadn't moved his arms or loosed his grip in his sleep, and that brought a lump to her throat.

Just a few more moments. Just a few more heartbeats synched with his; just a few more slow, contented breaths. Just a few more moments feeling these hands around her waist, memorising them. 

Oh, she loved him. Far, far too much for her own good. Too much for his good, either. 

She couldn't hurt him for her own gain. Not ever. 

She kissed his forehead again before throwing the covers back and twisting out of his grip. He murmured something that sounded like her name, and she choked back a sob. 

She had to go, right now, before he eroded her self control anymore. 

She slipped from his grip, and he stirred in his sleep, reaching for her. It took all her self control not to slip back in. 

A tear dripped down her face, and she wiped it away hurriedly. Not now. 

It wasn't as if she would never see him again. Just not this version of him. 

Why did all of his faces have to be so him? 

She slipped out of her dress, finding underwear, jeans, and a tank top from the piles of clothes she bought. She didn't have the energy for anything else, not today. 

"River?"

She closed her eyes for a moment, tears slipping out under her eyelashes. 

She couldn't turn around, but heard the rustle of sheets as he stood. 

"You're leaving me, aren't you." 

"I have to." She managed, hating how her voice came out choked. 

"I know. I do know. But I'd hoped that-" 

"Sweetie-" 

"Let me finish." He came up behind her, setting his hands gently on her shoulders and turning her around. She leaned into his touch, obeying, unable to help herself, but she couldn't meet his eyes. 

He cupped her chin, lifting it up, and she almost smiled at how comfortable he'd become with touching her. "I only wanted to be awake for our last kiss." 

She laughed in relief, a film of tears blurring his smile. "It sounds awful when you say it like that." 

"Not that I'd mind you kissing me under any circumstances. But being awake is preferable." 

She ducked her head, attempting a smile. "I'll need my lipstick." 

He nodded. She broke from his touch, finding her lipstick in the draw she'd stashed it in. 

"At least you'll be able to remember." He said, quietly. 

She dared to find his face, tears trickling down his cheeks. She couldn't help but step forward and wipe them away. 

"I'd forget and have you remember, if I could." 

"Really?" 

"In a heartbeat. Every moment is so precious, but I- I hate how it hurts you to forget all the time." 

His eyes widened in surprise and hope."All the time?" 

She smiled. "Spoilers." 

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh, River Song. I'm not sure I'd chose to forget, if our situations were reversed." 

She smiled sadly before breaking away again, finding a mirror to apply her lipstick. Her skin prickled under his gaze, and she almost laughed at how alien this must be to him. 

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone do that before." 

She turned back, offering a teasing smile. "It isn't that unusual." 

He held out his hands, and she took them, stepping forwards.

He sighed, ducking his head to hide the tears. "There's one good thing about you remembering." 

"Oh?" She asked, lifting his chin gently. 

"You won't forget how remarkable you are." 

She kissed him, not because she had to for the sake of the universe, but because her heart demanded it. 

*. *. * 

He fought the drug with all he had, even as the press of her lips against his was so intoxicating he almost didn't notice it. 

He knew they had to be apart. But when she kissed him, he didn't care. 

But all he had wasn't enough, and he could feel the memories slipping away, even as he clutched at them, even as he clutched at her, even as he fell, and something- a hand- cushioned his fall. 

One word remained on his lips, right up until he closed his eyes and slipped from consciousness. 

Remarkable.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for Diary of River Song 3, when Five meets River, but nothing major.

He knocked on the door, once but firmly. 

"Come in." She called, and he knew at once that it was her. He'd recognise that voice anywhere. 

Now that he had his memories back, at any rate. And now that he did have his memories back, there was one question that needed answering. He'd left it while she'd been travelling, all those little signs that she was more than she seemed, largely because she’d looked so broken when he'd first met her. But after that speech...

She was strewn out on the bed, papers, a blue book, and several discarded pens, spread out around her. She looked up as he entered, and purred (there was no other word for it, really) "Hello, Sweetie." 

The question came tumbling out before he had a chance to censor it. "Who are you?" 

She sat up, reaching for the papers and tidying them with a casualty that betrayed their importance. "Straight to that, are we? I thought you might have at least said hello." 

"River. I need to know, I-" 

She stopped tidying, dropping her head and sighing. "I can't, sweetie. I'm sorry." 

"Sweetie?" 

"It'll grow on you." 

He took a step further into the room, feeling more and more that he was intruding. "Are you from my future?" 

She looked up, offering a smile, and it shouldn't have filled the room as it did. "Clever boy. But I really, really can't tell you. I shouldn't even have met you." 

"Then why did you?" 

She dropped her gaze again, tightening her jaw. When she spoke again, her voice was quiet but firm. "I needed you." 

"Because you love me?" He tried to say it softly, but it came out harsher than he'd intended. 

"Yes." Her admission was soft, but the simple word was laced with so much emotion that he couldn't help but turn from it. 

"But I don't even know you." 

The light in her eyes dimmed. "You will." 

"Why come to me? Why not the man who knows you?" 

She looked straight at him, piercing eyes seeing right through, to the heart of his soul. "You're all the same man. It doesn't matter to me." 

He took another step into the room. "Who are you?" 

She offered him a sad smile. "I can't tell you." 

"Why not? If you're here anyway-" 

"You're full of questions tonight, aren't you?" 

He wrung his hands, not wanting to push her any further, but he couldn't help but say: "You told me that you loved me, that you knew me in the future. It's only natural that I’d-" 

She threw her head back and laughed, and he was too busy listening to it to realise that she was laughing at him. Eventually he managed: 

"What?" 

When she looked up, the only trace of that intense emotion was a slight wetness lingering in the corner of her eyes. "You are everything so scientifically, don't you?" 

"Do I always?" He couldn't help but ask the question, answers lingering in her eyes but still so far away. 

"Spoilers." 

He frowned. "What?" 

She watched him with concern- no, something deeper than that. He wasn't sure he'd ever been looked at like that before. "You'll understand one day." 

There was a slight pause, and then the question tumbled out, hesitant but so important. "Will I- love you- one day?" 

Her expression was carefully controlled as she dropped her gaze and said: "Is that so difficult to imagine?" 

"No." He said, before he could stop himself. Of course it wouldn't be. Because she- 

He could see how it would be very, very easy to love River Song. How it might happen, so quickly, if he spent enough time with her. 

All her carefully choreographed facial expressions had faded away, and she was smiling, so brilliantly, tears lingering in the corner of her eyes. It was too much, all of this was too much, so he stammered: "I- I mean-" 

She laughed again, even brighter than before. "It's alright, sweetie. If you keep talking you might ruin it." 

He sat down beside her on the bed, and couldn't stop himself from stammering out more. "I mean- that you're- frankly, brilliant, and you understand everything, in a way no-one else ever does. You're- you're- well, I suppose the word is- beautiful, though it's not one I use very often, and-" 

She laid a gentle hand on his arm. "You'd best stop there, sweetie. Remember what I said about ruining it?" 

He looked up to study her face. After a pause, he managed: "You're going to wipe my memory, aren't you?" 

She turned from his gaze. "I'm sorry." 

"But why did you-" 

He was cut off by an almighty rumble, the floor shaking under his feet. He fell into River's side, her hands on his upper arms steadying him. 

"What was that?" He breathed. 

"Shall we go and find out?" 

When he turned to her, her eyes were sparkling with the thrill of adventure, and he couldn't help but smile. 

She stood, bracing herself for another impact, and held out her hand. He took it, steadying himself as he stood. 

She smiled, brightly, tapping a bracelet on her arm, and then dragged him out the room and down the corridor. 

"Umm, River-" 

She turned back to him, a teasing smile on her face. "Usually you do the dragging?" 

"Well, yes-" 

"So do I." 

The building shook again, and he barrelled forwards into her. Somehow, she'd managed to steady herself, and grinned at him as she steadied him again. 

"Do you not need balance in cricket?" 

"What? River- well, I-" 

She laughed, lightly. "Come on, Sweetie. Let's go." 

He didn't voice any more objections, simply held on and did his best to keep up with her. How she was running in heels, he had no idea, but she was managing better than him, and that rankled slightly. 

For once, it was him along for the ride. And he wasn't sure how he felt about that. 

They'd reached the stairs before another impact hit, and he managed to grab onto the railings as River did. 

"Whatever that is-" she said, breathlessly, "it really wants us to know it's here." 

He caught up with her, watching the thrill of excitement in her eyes."Shall we find that out?" 

"Sounds like a plan." 

They ran through the rest of the hotel, he doing his best to match her strides. When they burst out of the doors, along with a stampede of other guests, a platoon of Sontarans were waiting. 

"Ah." River slid to a halt, assessing the situation carefully. 

"What?" 

"They're probably here for me." 

He raised his eyebrows. "What did you do?" 

"We have a- chequered history." 

She dropped his hand, and he suddenly missed it. She stepped forward confidently, hips swaying, and blew them a kiss. 

Blew a battle squadron of Sontarans a kiss. 

"Hello, boys." 

"We have come to annihilate you."

"Well, I'm flattered, but don't you think we should move this somewhere more private?"

"We can annihilate you here." 

She made a show of considering. "But I had such a lovely place picked out." 

She was insane. Absolutely, completely insane. 

So was he, but that wasn't the point right now. 

"We will-" 

"Promises, promises. I'll take the initiative, I suppose." 

She stepped backwards, whispered in his ear: "  
"Keep yourself safe, and make sure everyone's alright here. If you fancy taking a memory agent, that would be appreciated. See you later, darling." 

"You stall. We will-" 

They were cut off by a flash of smoke, in which River and the entire squadron vanished. 

He blinked. 

What in the universe was she doing? 

He hung around for a moment, just processing everything that had happened. Everything she'd done. 

He should follow her. He should- 

Somebody screamed inside, and he turned from the site of her disappearance. He was the Doctor, and there were people to save. 

He rushed through the corridors, helping where he could and sonicking everything except the annoying amount of wood. Once him and other rescuers had got everyone out, he wandered back outside, River's last moments still caught in his head. 

She could be dead. 

He doubted it greatly, but the thought sent his heart battering and his head spinning. If he'd let her die- 

His sonic beeped, and flashed co-ordinates on a little screen he'd never seen before. 

River. 

He couldn't help his smile as he dashed to the Tardis, inputting the co-ordinates in a flurry of action. Oh, that ridiculous, incredible woman. 

Up against a squadron of Sontarans. 

He inputted the co-ordinates, finding himself in the middle of a forest, a few miles from the city. The hardwoods stretched almost to the sky, vines tangling through their branches and around their trunks. 

Here? Why here?

He called her name as he walked through the forest, listening carefully for any sounds and attempting to be as quiet as possible. If she'd set some kind of trap, he didn't want to end up in the middle of it. 

And entire squadron of Sontarans. But something told him she could take them. 

Once he'd been walking for perhaps twenty minutes, he finally heard the roars of some very, very angry Sontarans. He picked up the pace, grinning despite himself. 

What had she done to them? 

He burst onto the scene a couple of minutes later, and almost gasped. 

The entire squadron of Sontarans was tied up in forest vines, hanging from a tree. River was standing a couple of feet away, laughing. She turned to him, eyes bright and golden hair reflecting the sunlight. 

"You're late." She noted, her smile wide.

"The co-ordinates set me down twenty minutes away!" 

"I couldn't have you getting in the way." 

He stepped in closer, watching the Sontarans jostle about in the vine trap. "Looks like you have everything sorted." 

He saw his own mirth reflected in her eyes as she smiled. "One of the strongest materials in the universe. I disabled their weapons in he transfer, so-" she shrugged, her eyes glinting. 

He couldn't help but shake his head in wonder. "How did you-" 

"Spoilers." She said, casting her eyes back to the Sontarans and letting out another laugh. He couldn't help but join her, and the angry voices of the Sontarans only made it worse. 

A squadron of Sontarans. Trapped in forest vines. 

Once he'd started, he couldn't stop himself, and her laughter was infectious, ringing out through the trees. He laughed till he had to support himself on his knees, until tears began pooling in his eyes. 

If it hadn't been for the sound of transmats, he wouldn't have noticed the entire squadron vanishing. 

River looked up at he did, her own eyes leaking mirth, and smiled triumphantly. 

"What happened?" He managed. 

She smiled brilliantly. "There was only one way out of that trap. Transmats." 

He stared at her, wide eyed. "That amounts to surrender." 

"I know." 

"But- the Sontarans- they never-" 

"They've met me before. Been forced to surrender to me before, as well. Didn't you wonder why they sent an entire squadron?" 

He could only stare at her in wonder. Who was she, this woman who professed her love to him and sent Sontarans running? 

"Who are you?" He breathed, and cursed himself when the light in her eyes dimmed. But she stepped closer, an expression on her face that he couldn't read. 

"Back there again, are we?" 

"I'm sorry. I really am, but River, I- I have to know." 

"I can't tell you." She said, softly. 

"You traveled with me. If this would affect the timelines, surely-" 

She sighed, running a finger along his cheek, and he stiffened, sparks flying under her touch. "What I mean is, I've already said goodbye to one version of you who knew everything. I couldn't do it a second time." 

"I don't understand-" 

He was horrified to see that there were tears, real tears, trickling down her face, and he cursed himself. 

"I'm sorry." She murmured, dropping her hand and turning away. 

"No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." 

"I'm going to have to wipe your memory." She said, quietly. 

"Walk back to the Tardis with me first." 

She nodded, smiling, and they walked off into the woods, side by side. 

"Did you do what I asked you too?" 

He raised his eyebrows, but answered: "Yes. I don't think there were any casualties." 

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Good." 

"It wouldn't be your fault if there were." 

"If it was you in that situation, would you believe that?" 

He met her eyes. "No." 

She smiled, faintly. "I thought as much. Besides, our history did begin with some unnecessary teasing. I wouldn't want any casualties to come out of that." 

"You teased Sontarans?" 

She raised her eyebrows playfully. 

"Of course you did." 

Her answering smile was bright, a joy behind her eyes that he couldn't quite place. 

"What did you say to them?" 

Her eyes sparkled, and she said: "Oh, I only asked them if they were on a hen night." 

He met her eyes and burst out laughing, her laughter ringing out over the top of his. 

"What are you like?" He asked, shaking his head. 

"Spoilers." She breathed, turning to him and leaning in slightly. 

He watched her for a moment, the light sparkling in her eyes, the curve of her lips as she smiled, the curls framing her face. How had he not noticed it before, how beautiful she was? 

"What?" She said, quietly. 

"You're amazing." He said, equally as quietly. 

She ducked her head, a faint blush colouring her cheeks. "You don't know anything about me." 

"I know enough." 

She closed her eyes for a moment, raising her head and offering him a faint smile. "It's a good job you don't know any more." 

He didn't press her, annoyed with himself. But how was he to know that a compliment would affect her so? 

She was full of contradictions and mysteries, this woman. And he wanted nothing more than to explore them. 

But in about ten minutes, she'd wipe his memory, and she'd be gone, taking her exhilarating laugh and adventure with her. 

"How long? Until I do?" 

"5 more faces." She said, softly. 

He raised his eyebrows. "Five? That's six more regenerations! I'll nearly be..." 

She smiled, softly. "Spoilers." 

"I don't want to have to wait that long." He said, truthfully. 

She smiled, the light in her eyes dimming. "It won't matter when you don't remember." 

The next sentence tumbled out before he could stop it. "Why do I have a feeling that it always matters when it comes to you?" 

When she looked up, tears were pooling in the corner of her eyes, but her smile was bright and genuine. "Aren't you the flatterer." She purred, swaying closer to him. 

"River." He said, gaze caught by her lips. "Would it be- that is, could I-" 

He was cut off by the press of her lips against his, and he couldn't help but lean into her, her arms fitting around his waist. He started at that, but regretted their removal. 

When they broke apart, she was smiling widely. "Hello, Sweetie." She murmured. 

"I've wanted to do that for a long time." He said, softly, his mouth running away with him. "But I didn't know who you were, really, and Brooke- wait, what happened to Brooke?" 

"Ah." She said, smiling. "That. I'm surprised you managed to remember anything at all, but you really can't remember that.” 

“Why not?” 

“Spoilers.” 

“River-” 

“Hush, now.” She said, placing a finger over his lips and ducking her head towards the Tardis. “You should go.” 

“It's a time machine, River.” He said, softly. “You don't have to go.” 

She smiled widely, though there was sadness held in it. “Yes, I do.” 

He nodded, dropping his gaze. 

“This isn't goodbye.” She said, stepping backwards and producing lipstick from somewhere on her person. He watched her apply it, confused but intrigued. 

“Five more faces.” He said, more to himself than to her. 

To his surprise, she smiled widely again. “Perhaps not quite that long.” 

“What?” 

“Spoilers, sweetie.” She murmured, just before her lips met his. 

He didn't have to strength to hold onto her, though he tried to fight the amnesia taking hold. 

He woke to find himself asleep on a forest floor, head cushioned by a blanket of leaves, the Tardis a few feet away. 

An incredible and intriguing mystery was on the tip of his memory, but he couldn't reach it. And there was a heaviness in his heart that he couldn't place. 

He shrugged, pushing himself up and brushing himself off. There was a universe to see. 

He stepped across the leaf litter to the Tardis, running his fingers down her door. “What do you say, old girl? Shall we go?” 

She hummed, but it had a hint of melancholy in it.


End file.
